<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Officer’s Lounge by sheApunk89</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444536">The Officer’s Lounge</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheApunk89/pseuds/sheApunk89'>sheApunk89</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Softest of Wars [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Feels, Gen, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, didnt see that comin, i made an OC kinda?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:42:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28444536</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheApunk89/pseuds/sheApunk89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardcase started it. Even if he didn’t he claims it and no one remembers the details of the beginning well enough to refute him. </p><p>When Rex discovers it, he is deeply disappointed though, not remotely surprised.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo &amp; CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CT-5597 | Jesse &amp; CT-7567 | Rex, CT-6116 | Kix &amp; CT-7567 | Rex, CT-7567 | Rex &amp; 501st</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Softest of Wars [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131584</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Captain Rex Stuff, Open Source Soft Wars</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Officer’s Lounge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set in the Soft Wars AU, thanks to my brainstorm friendo-s on discord!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hardcase started it. Even if he didn’t he claims it and no one remembers the details of the beginning well enough to refute him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Rex discovers it, he is deeply disappointed though, not remotely surprised. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Fives is passed out on the floor with a bottle of something ill-advised in one hand and a barely conscious Echo in the other. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The decorated ARC Trooper that Rex has seen <em>with his own eyes</em> turn a platoon of Tinnies into scrap metal with a single droid popper and very good aim, gives him a dopey grin and a hand gesture that is probably meant to look like a wave. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He sighs. Long and with feeling. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kix has the audacity to look smug, and Rex is starting to think the Lt didnt call him down here to look at a stock discrepancy after all. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jesse is sprawled on a crate turned table nearby bragging loudly about being able to drink an entire bottle of something even more ill-advised while upside down.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Based on his slurring he has already proven this talent. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everywhere Rex looks there are vode leaning against each other and piled up on crates and old cushions that are too garish and well worn to be GAR issue. The durasteel walls are plastered with posters and pieces of flimsi, most of them charred around the edges and creased from being folded inside a breast or backplate. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thestorage room is an ideal place for a bar, really and in spite of himself Rex is impressed. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The logistics are perfectly executed and that smacks of Jesse, if Rex is honest with himself. Hardcase could be sharp as a Beskar spear when he put his mind to it, the problem was getting him to stand still long enough to think through all the routes of attack. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a medium sized storage room, so there is plenty of space for the various seating and tables, as well as the old ion thrust coupling that had been set on its side to be repaired at some point and forgotten about, that has been repurposed into a very effective bar. Despite the triple high ceilings, it is a poorly lit space and the scattered shadows promise a measure of privacy that is hard to come by on a ship full of thousands of men. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Due to it’s proximity to the engine bay, the room is quite a bit warmer than other common areas of the ship, and it reeks of fuel. Theres a constant low level thrum and sporadic clanging in the walls so one has to raise their voice just slightly to be heard by those nearby. Its the kind of place that, even if a natborn officer was going to go venturing into the bowels of the ship, he would probably not care to spend too much time looking around.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It is…really kind of perfect. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex is not ignorant to the way the room has fallen silent since he walked in. Every vod that is still conscious and in control of their faculties has gone wide eyed, most too self aware to even try to hide their contraband concoctions of alcohol. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ones that were not sober enough to be aware had been silenced by well meaning, and very well placed, elbows and boots. In fact the silence is only broken by the periodic clang of the engine exhaust filter and a small, slightly mangled radio someone had cobbled together an antenna for that sat on the edge of the bar catching the tail ends of radio waves coming off the Lorta system’s comm satellites as their ship passes by. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead of addressing the tense silence (every man knows their Captain to be fair and has never begrudged his men a bit of humanity, but there was a big difference between turning a blind eye to sketchbooks and illegally downloaded holos and running an entire <em>bar</em> in the Resolute’s engine bay and they all know it), Rex turns to take in the wall near the door. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It iscovered with dismembered blaster pieces, shards of shrapnel in gold and blue and green, scraps of fabric, flickering holo disks advertising speeder repair shops, even jars of bioluminescent plant cuttings were placed carefully on shelves that are riveted into place.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It is reminiscent of something Fox's boys have put together at GAR headquarters. Just junk the rest of the galaxy had thrown away. But his men had seen the beauty in it, picked it up and brought it here to display it proudly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He can feel eyes on him as he approaches the wall to inspect it closer. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then, even and smooth, like he’d meant to do it all along, Rex reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a chunk of glass. It is smooth and round, aside from the edge where it had been broken off to a sharp point. He’d seen it sticking out of the dirt on Vassek when the light of a flare caught the edge. He didn’t know exactly what prompted him to pick it up. Just that it had been oddly smooth and pleasantly heavy in his hand, the deep amber-red color something he couldn’t remember seeing before. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He places it carefully on the shelf, wedged between a Felucian Singing Rose and a jar of Mon Cala microplankton. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns around and tucks his hands behind his back. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lieutenant Kix?” Rex snaps. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes sir?” Kix answers immediately, clearly contemplating standing at attention. Rex is pleased when all he does is straighten in his seat. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get someone to put a ledge on this shelf. Or else everything is going to go flying during our first skirmish and I don’t plan to be the one to explain to the General why our on board water supply is glowing.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There is a beat of unbelieving silence. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex grins. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And the men <em>erupt</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shouting their praise for their Captain and the Republic and the deities that created alcohol and gave it to man. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A vod standing behind the bar waves him over and Rex approaches, raising an eyebrow at the small metal cup he pushes toward him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Officers drink free.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex’s eyebrow climbs higher. “No one has credits.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The vod, Rex was pretty sure his name was Baby, shrugs. “Most of the men trade things for drinks, or time tending the bar.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What did this shift buy you?” Rex asks, sniffing his cup carefully. The liquid is dark blue and only slightly more viscous than used oil. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Baby shakes his head, soft curls brushing his shoulders. “I lost a bet. But I kind of like it. I may take a couple extra shifts.” His smile morphs to that special brand of chaotic that Torrent perfected and makes other Battalions wince. “Try it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex lifts his eyes from the drink to Baby's face. “It’s not going to kill me, is it?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Worryingly, Baby only shrugs again. “Hasn’t killed anyone yet. Anyway, Lt. Kix is only having water. He’ll take care of you if something happens.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That...is not nearly as comforting as he seems to think. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex glares at his drink for a moment, and then with a steadying breath, he takes a long pull. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Swallowing carefully, he tries to parse out the different, conflicting flavors. He wrinkles his nose. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s making my lips tingle.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Baby beams. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s the idea, Captain. I call it ‘Not Your Brother’s Tube Juice’’.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex’s frown deepens. “No. You don’t.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Baby’s shoulders drop and his eyes go Cadet wide. “Why does everyone say that?” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead of answering, Rex takes another sip. Once he gets past the sudden need to cough uncontrollably it is actually pretty good. Kind of fruity. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You, trooper, are in desperate need of help.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Baby nods, grinning again. “Thank’s Cap.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That wasn’t-” Rex cuts himself off with another weary sigh and turns away, going over to join Kix and Jesse instead, leaving Baby to tend to the other thirsty, also potentially karked in the head, customers who are vying for his attention. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You are being demoted.” Rex announces, dropping down onto the crate turned bench beside Kix. Splayed out on the stack of boxes that is also a table in front of them an apparently not unconscious Jesse raises his fist in triumph. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not you.” Rex grumbles, taking another sip of his drink. It seems to be getting, at least easier, if not better tasting. “You’re promoted.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jesse lets out a strangled moan and his hand drops back to his side. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kix rolls his eyes, not looking the least bit cowed by the Captain’s ire. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s the matter Cap? Tube Juice not hitting the spot?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t call it that.” Rex sputters around another sip, shooting the Medic a scandalized look. “Don’t let <em>anyone</em> call it that.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kix shrugs, unmoved. “Baby invented it. He gets to name it. Those are the rules.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex just grunts, finishing off his drink and setting the cup beside Jesse’s head. Baby, seeing his Captain has finished his drink, waves and signals to ask if he wants another. Rex rolls his eyes but nods. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He settles back in the corner, resting against the bulkhead and watches the Sabacc game a few feet away devolve into shouting and then good natured wrestling. On the other side of the room Echo has roused Fives and is pushing his stumbling brother out the door for their next shift. Beyond that TipToes is standing over a pile of vode on the floor who, despite their entangle limbs, are watching their brother with rapt attention as he walks them through one of the line dances he saw on the holonet to the song that is playing through static on the radio. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kix pokes Rex’s shoulder to get the Captain to look at him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like it. Don’t you?” The medic is grinning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rex opens his mouth to answer when there is a sudden loud bang that almost has him shooting to his feet. He only stops because every trooper in the room, stomps a foot or smacks a bulkhead as one and shouts '<em>mhi olar</em>’ at the top of their lungs. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Slowly, Rex turns to look at Kix and lets the grin he feels pull at his lips. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, Kix. I like it.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kix taps his bracer on the Captain’s. “I knew you would, Vod.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jesse is laying mere feet away, biding his time. He hears Baby’s slightly limping gate approach, smells the tray of drinks come close and then the quiet thanks the Captain mumbles when he takes one. He waits for a two count before he lets his head loll over to face the two men.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We call it ‘The Officer’s Lounge’.” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Jesse does not appreciate the spray of spit and alcohol that covers the table and, by extension, himself, but decides it’s worth it to have the look on the Captain’s face burned into his memory for the rest of his life. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"The <em>what?”</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m very attached to Baby at this point.</p><p>Mhi olar - We're Here</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>